The Tourist (Sold #1)

9. Chloe

CHAPTER 9

Chloe

A few days later, I’m strong enough to walk around for short periods of time, and the first place I’ve chosen to go is out into the garden. I long to be in the fresh air. It’s one of the things I missed most while in captivity.

The air is thick with the scent of blooming cacti and the faint aroma of the desert that surrounds us. Diego lives on the outskirts of Las Vegas in a private compound with high walls, numerous guards, and no neighbors for miles. It gives me a welcome sense of peace and security.

Diego’s hand is firm and reassuring in mine, guiding me along the winding trail. I thought I would find his touch, any man’s touch, unbearable, but it feels comforting and reassuring.

It’s been three weeks since my body was purged of heroin. Three weeks since I began the slow, painful climb back to something resembling life. The cuts and bruises have faded, replaced by new, tender skin. I still feel weak and a shadow of my former self, but I’m eating again—small, healthy meals specially prepared by Diego’s chef to help me regain my strength. Each step I take feels like a small victory over the past.

"It's beautiful out here," I say softly, my voice still raspy from lack of use.

I haven’t spoken much in the last few months, and the words feel foreign and heavy on my tongue.

Diego nods. "I thought you might like it. It’s peaceful, and we could all use more tranquility in our lives."

I can’t help but wonder how Diego is coping with all of this—the horrors he must have seen while rescuing girls like me, and the daily thoughts running through his mind about Serena and what she’s experiencing. I’m surprised he has any strength left to keep going. There’s a sadness in his eyes. He tries to hide it and be strong for me, but I see it in his weaker moments.

I stop momentarily to admire a cluster of blooming succulents, their vibrant purple and pink colors starkly contrasting with the desert landscape. Each plant is a small oasis of life, and the intricate patterns and textures captivate my attention as their petals glisten with morning dew.

In this desolate expanse, these succulents stand as a testament to nature's resilience and beauty, thriving where most life struggles to survive. I can’t help but see the analogy in me. I survived where many haven’t.

"Are you feeling okay?" Diego asks, concern in his features.

His dark eyes study me closely as if searching for hidden wounds—fissures that could erupt like a volcano at any moment.

"Yes," I reply, managing a small smile. "It’s just... it’s a lot to take in. Being outside, the sunlight, and the smells. It’s overwhelming, but in a good way."

He squeezes my hand gently. " I wanted to talk to you about something. Your parents... they’re worried about you. They want you to come home to England. I told them I’d ask you how you felt about it."

The mention of home sends a pang through my heart. Diego kept in contact with my parents while I was in captivity, and I’ve spoken to them a few times on the phone since my rescue, but only after my detox was complete. The conversation was strained, filled with awkward silences and unspoken horrors.

I know my parents want to help, but they can never fully comprehend what I’ve been through. They’ve asked to fly over to visit me, but I’m not ready. It’s too soon. I don’t want them to see me so broken. It will only cause them more worry.

"I can’t go back," I say quietly, my gaze lowering to the ground. "Not yet, anyway. Mom and Dad wouldn’t understand. I know they’d try, but how could they comprehend what I’ve been through? I can’t sleep without having nightmares, and thoughts of Serena consume me."

Diego nods, his expression softening. He knows the horrors I’m talking about, which is why it is different for me here. I can be open with him.

"I understand,” he reassures me. “And you don’t have to go back until you’re ready. You can stay here as long as you want. I’ll be here if you need anything. Just ask."

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes in response to the gratitude I feel toward Diego and the overwhelming emotions I’ve kept bottled inside for so long.

"Thank you. I... I don’t know what I’d do without you," I respond.

"You’re stronger than you think, Chloe. And you’re not alone. We’ll find Serena, and we’ll get through this together."

We continue our walk in silence for a while, and I take a few deep breaths to try to center myself.

A large, flowering cactus captures our attention, and we stop to look. Its bright red blossoms are a stark contrast to its prickly exterior. I reach out to touch one of the flowers, and I’m amazed at the softness of the petals.

"Do you think Serena is okay?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

Diego takes a deep breath. "I don’t know. But I do know we’ll never stop looking for her. She’s out there, somewhere, and we’ll find her."

The determination in his voice gives me a delicate but growing ember of hope in my heart. "I need to know she’s safe, Diego. I need to see her."

"You will," Diego assures me. "But until then, you have a place here. You won’t want for anything. I promise."

The garden path winds back toward the house, and we continue to follow it in silence. As we walk, I commit all the varied scents and sights to memory. I promise myself I will do that for everything I experience in the future because I know life is fragile.

I glance at Diego as we step back into the cool interior of the house. He’s given me a sanctuary, a place to heal and find my strength, and I will always be grateful to him for that. I feel a sense of calm wash over me. I haven’t known this feeling of peace in years, even before my abduction.

Diego leads me to his cozy living room and helps me to sit on the sofa. He hands me a glass of water and I take a sip, the cool liquid soothing my throat.

"I want you to be honest with me. How are you feeling?" Diego asks, his voice gentle but probing.

"I’m... managing," I reply truthfully. "It’s difficult, but this place helps. It’s quiet, and I feel like I can breathe here."

"That’s good," Diego says, nodding. "It’s important to have a safe space. I want to make sure you’re getting everything you need."

"You’re doing great. I don’t know how I’d cope without you," I say, feeling a warmth spread through me. "But I think... I think I need more help. Maybe counseling, like you suggested. It will be challenging to talk about what happened, but I know I need to."

Diego’s face fills with a mix of relief and determination. "I’ll arrange it. Anything you need. You just say the word, and I’ll make it happen."

"Thank you," I whisper, overwhelmed by his kindness. "For everything."

"There’s no need to thank me," he replies, his voice soft but firm. "I’m here for you.”

I can sense the guilt he feels in his words. I don’t blame him for what happened to me, though. Richard Armstrong was the cause. It was the result of one evil man’s quest for power.

"Do you think it’s possible to ever truly heal from something like this?" I ask, voicing a fear that’s been gnawing at me.

Diego has been standing in front of me, but now he sits down beside me on the sofa.

"I think healing is possible, but it will take time. It’s okay to have scars. They’re a part of who we are, but they don’t have to define us."

His words resonate deeply, and I feel a sense of acceptance wash over me. "Thank you. For believing in me."

"I always will," he replies, his voice steady. “You’re stronger than you know. And you’re not alone. Not anymore."

I place my hand over my mouth to stifle a yawn as tiredness hits me.

"Why don’t you lie down on the sofa and get some rest,” Diego suggests. “That walk is the most exercise you’ve done since you arrived here. While you take a nap, I’ll sort us some lunch. And if you need anything, I’ll be just in the kitchen.”

"That’s a good idea. My legs are aching," I reply, feeling a sense of peace wash over me as I lie down. Diego retrieves a blanket, and placing it over me, he tucks me in.

As I lie there, my eyes feeling heavy, I reflect on everything—the walk in the garden, the conversation with Diego, and the support I’ve had from him. It all feels like a step in the right direction.

The nightmares are still lingering, but they’re less intense and less consuming. And with each passing day, I feel a little stronger and more optimistic. The journey ahead is long, and the road to healing is filled with challenges, but I know I’m not alone.

In captivity, I believed my life was over and I wished for death. Now all that has changed, and where there was despair, there’s a glimmer of hope. I’ll take it one step at a time, finding strength from these moments of tranquility and the promise of a brighter future that, for the last six months, I never thought I would have.